Need You Now
by Sarah36396
Summary: Set after the end of the Avengers movie. Just a little story about Clint and Natasha trying to come to terms with the aftermath of their last adventure. Rated for language and mildly suggestive themes. Natashe/Clint.


Natasha let out a long sigh as she paced her hotel room, glass of vodka in hand. It had been a week since the battle in New York- S.H.I.E.L.D had ordered they all take some down town, at least two weeks, before returning to work. Natasha had hoped for some foreign contracts to come in, but absolutely nothing came her way and she had a feeling that there was interference. She didn't need rest. Sure, she had been tired, but now she was rested and ready to go. It was starting to make her feel felt anxious- she hated being stuck in one place.

She caught herself pacing numerous times throughout the day, her mind wondering to things that were best left locked away in the back of her mind. Natasha had admited to being physically tired, but there was no way she would let anyone see how emotionally and mentally drained she was. She had trained her emotions as the team went their seperate ways, putting on a false smile and pretending that she wasn't hurt in any way, but she way. What Loki had said had gotten under her skin, and she didn't like it.

One of the greatest weapons on earth was love- it could turn the tide of a battle or stop someone from doing the unbelieveable. But it could also be used against you. That was her greatest fear, loosing someone she cared about. Lucky for her that only consisted of her team, but Loki had still used that against her. How had he known about Clint? Did he see something inside his head that Natasha had missed? Or had almost loosing him upset her so much that she had lost control of her features and emotions for a time?

With a sigh she shook her head, trying to clear away the thoughts. Instead she found herself thinking to the day they all departed. Everyone had left except Clint and herself, and they stood in a comfortable silence, looking out at the city. The people were starting to clear the rubble away, ready to get their lives back on track. For some it would be easy- a broken car was nothing compared to a broken family. But for others there wouldn't just be the clean up. They would be mourning the loved ones they lost, trying to get over the fact that they weren't coming back. Then there was Clint.

Natasha knew he was upset with the fact he had hurt some of the people closest to him and he was the type of guy who wouldn't let himself off the hook. He wouldn't brush the guilt aside- he would embrace it and keep it as a reminder he had screwed up. Natasha wanted to find the words to tell him it wasn't his fault, that it was going to be ok, but she couldn't- she had always had a way with words, but now she was clueless. What would he say to her in this kind of situation?

"Clint-" She had began only to have him shake his head.

"Don't worry about me, Romanoff," he said in a steely tone that made her shiver. She had never been "Romanoff". It was always Tasha, or Natasha, or some other pet name. His tone worried her. "Guess I'd better head out."

"Where to?" She titled her head.

"Dunno yet. Somewhere where there aren't any mirrors," he said bitterly, climbing into his car and driving off. Natasha had watched him go, fighting the urge to go find him. He was a grown man and she was a grown woman, they didn't need to baby sit each other. Now she regretted it.

With a sigh she downed the rest of the liquid, laying the glass in the sink as she grabbed her keys. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she knew she needed to get out of that blasted hotel room before she went crazy. She made sure she had her gun before locking the door behind her, padding down the stairs. She was so lost in thought she nearly collided with a man at the doors, sending them both stumbling.

"Sorry, I-" She began, then snapped her mouth shut.

"Tasha," Clint said pathetically, looking up at her. She bit the inside of her lip, an internal war beginning to rage. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, which explained the bags under his eyes. His hair was unruley and stuck up at odd angles, the stubble on his chin days old. "I need help."

"Clint, what in the hell?" She frowned, tucking her keys inside the pocket of her jeans. "When is the last time you slept?"

"I don't know...four days ago?" It was a question rather than an answer.

"Come on," she decided, leading him back towards the elevators. As soon as they were inside, the doors closed, she turned to face him, pressing the button to kill the elevator. "Now then, what is going on?"

"Nothing."

"I am guessing you found a place without mirrors? Because you look like hell," she frowned. "What is the matter with you?"

"Me," it was almost a whisper. "I am what's wrong with myself. I'm a monster," he said just as queitly, hanging his head. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair. She should have gone after him- what happened to him wasn't something you could just deal with. She should have known that.

"You can take a shower at my room, then we can talk."

"What is there to talk about? I am afraid of myself. What if he regrains control of me somehow? What if I end up hurting-"

"Clint, stop it," she spoke sharply and his head snapped up. "I said we are going to talk. But first you are going to clean up. Understand?" She softened her tone, laying a hand on his shoulder. "But please, stop."

He just nodded before hanging his head, leaning against the back of the elevator as it began its climb towards the top of the hotel once more. Natasha began to search for the right words to say, knowing this might be her only chance to straighten him out. He might not want to believe her, but she could make him listen. It was going to be a long evening.

.

.

Clint stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he walked over to the marble counter. A pair of sweats were neatly folded on the counter, as well as a mans razor. A ghost of a smile touched his lips and he shaved before pulling on his clothes. Normally he hated feeling like he needed to be looked after, but right now he needed help. Ever since he had returned from Loki's control he felt hallow inside- like an empty shell. His emotions were running wild, his own brain tormenting him. With a sigh he went into the small living area, going to stand at the large glass window that looked out of the city.

Rain had began to fall, small droplets splashing against the glass and weaving a path down towards the windowpane. The clouds were dark and grey, hiding the sun from view. Normally he would have appreciated the view- the rain had always calmed him, reminded him that even the littlest things in life could make a difference. But today it was just weather- it could have been raining fire and he wouldn't have thought any different on it.

"Hey," Natasha said from across the room. He turned around to face her, his thoughts drifting back to his room in the air craft and the moment they had shared. "Now you actually look like Clint Barton," she smiled slightly. "Feel any better?"

"No."

"Fair enough," she shrugged, sitting on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her and patting the spot next to her. "Let's talk."

"I'm not a little kid."

"You are right, you aren't. You are a grown man, my partner, and my best friends. So get your ass over here," she frowned. Clint sighed before doing as he was told, starring at the coffee table in front of him. The minutes seemed to tick by in silence as Natasha searched for the right words.

"I shouldn't have come," he finally said. "I need to deal with things on my own," he began to get up.

"No, you don't have to," she said softly, laying a hand on top of his. "Don't walk out on me now. Talk to me Clint, please?" She looked up at him with sad eyes. This wasn't the man she had come to- she instantly cut that thought off, not wanting to go there. Love was for children, and she wasn't a child, she reminded herself. But part of her remembered running around in pig tails and a yellow sun dress, not a care in the world. She shook herself mentally before focusing on Clint again.

"I...I guess," he said finally, relaxing against the back of the couch.

"What is eating at you?"

"I made Fury tell me how many. It is my fault Coulson is dead. I did exactly what we tried to stop- I hurt innocent people and I had no control over it. If I would have been stronger maybe I could have fought off Loki's control. I was weak and-"

"Clint, stop."

"No, let me finish. I was weak, and worst of all, I almost hurt you," he said in a quiet voice, starring at the floor. "It haunts me, Tasha. I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, trying to fight off the demons that seem to follow me. I relieve that day on the catwalk almost every night, but it doesn't end right. I hurt you somehow, or worse, kill you."

"I want you to listen to me," she took his face in her hands, breaking her no physical contact rule. She was honestly done trying. "And I want you to listne good. It is NOT your fault. You can sit here and blame yourself for the rest of your life, but there is not a damn thing you can do about it! What you did afterwards is what counts, Clint. You settled the score and helped bring Loki in. You apologized to those families and took their scorns like a man. You came back and you fought for what was right instead of sitting around and moping. But now, this isn't the Clint I know. And you know what? Yeah, you could have killed me. In fact, I think you almost had me for a minute Clint, but you hesitated, and that's when I got the upper hand. You were there fighting the entire time. You aren't weak," she finished, turning him loose.

Clint sat there for a moment, letting her words sink in. With a sigh he dropped his head to his hands, knowing she was right. There wasn't anything he could have done. If it had been her, he might be giving her the same speech right now. He knew how she felt, but it would just take time. But her words had finally hit him. "Thanks, Tasha," he said quietly. "I...You are right. I guess I need to grow up again."

"No, Clint. As much as I hate it, we are still human, and we have emotions," Ntasha shrugged.

"Natasha Romanoff has emotions?" He said, looking up at her with a slight smile. She rolled her eyes, punching him in the arm before walking over to the sink and getting herself a glass of water. "Tasha," he walked up behind her and she turned around to face him, propping her eblows on the counter.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head to the side.

"Fury also told me what Loki said to you...and what you said." He took a deep breath. "I am going to promise you this right now- I refuse to hurt you. Short of me being brainwashed and controlled again, I can't hurt you. The desire just isn't in me. If any of the others became a threat, I could take them out. It would be part of the job. But if it was you...I just couldn't," he finished with a sigh.

Natasha just sighed before steppig forward and wrapping her arms around his neck, letting her head rest against his chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart, once again searching for the right words. None came, so she just stood there, enjoying the moment. Clint's arms wrapped around her, holding her in his firm embrace. She felt secure and she knew she could get used to this. And it scared her- the world used the ones you loved to hurt you. But sometimes you needed someone to rely on, and for her that person happened to be Clint Barton.

"Clint, Look, I-" He shut her up with a kiss, his coullosed hand spreading out on the back of her neck. Natasha stood paralized with surpirse for a moment before kissing him back, one hand clenching onto his shirt. She wasn't sure how long they kissed, but when they pulled apart her lungs were demanding air.

"That's my promise," he said quietly before turning away and heading towards the door.

"Oh no you don't," she grabbed his arm. "Get back over here," she spun him around, attacking his mouth once more. For years she had been fighting her attraction to this man and she was done trying. There wasn't any point anymore. They needed each other- two halves made a whole.

"Geez Tasha," he muttered as she pulled away. "If you wanted me to stay you could've asked."

"Shut up Barton," she mumbled as he once again pulled her into his embrace. Some people might think she was crazy, but Natasha Romanoff was not a woman to throw words and emotions around lightly. If she said something, she meant it. "I love you."

"I know you do," he buried his face in her hair. "And I love you too."

Natasha smiled against his chest, trying to control the pounding in her chest. If love was for children, she would just have to accept that there was still a bit of child inside her, somewhere. Because even though she had fought it, she had fallen in love, and she wasn't going to try to stop it. She reached up to kiss him one last time, making sure he knew how much he meant to her.

Clint smiled against her lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm glad we talked."

She pulled away, heading back towards the kitchen. "Anytime, Partner," she threw back over her shoulder. Clint chuckled before following her, shaking his head. Hearing those three words come out of her mouth seemed to have washed his woes away. He realized as long as she was around, he could make it through everything. Another thought occured to him and he groaned.

"What?" Natasha turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"Stark is never going to let us live this down."

"We have a week before we have to go back," she said, a impish grin on her face. "A week to make some _very_ interesting stories," she added the last part in a whisper before pulling him down for another kiss. Clint just smiled, perfectly fine with that idea- afterall, they had lots of time to make up for. And he planned to make every minute of it memorible.


End file.
